


Revenge is a Kiss

by Zephyrfox



Series: Goldeneye Reflections [8]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Don’t copy to another site, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: With every day that passes, M knows that James Bond and Alec Trevelyan are out there, somewhere, plotting their revenge.
Relationships: James Bond/Alec Trevelyan
Series: Goldeneye Reflections [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/380431
Comments: 30
Kudos: 42





	1. The Time Has Come

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, the final installment of the Goldeneye Reflections series!

M stared out over London.  _ Where were they?  _ It had been four months since Bond and Trevelyan had sent 002 back to her. Something must have happened on their end. She wasn’t fool enough to believe they’d forgotten her or had simply given up on exacting revenge. None of the feelers she’d sent out to Moscow and Kiev had borne any fruit.

Her office door opened and closed, and Tanner’s voice broke the silence. “You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

She didn’t bother turning. “There’s a list of names on my desk. I can’t keep the Double O’s penned up any longer. Send all of them out.”

Tanner hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“If I want someone to question my decisions I can speak to my children.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She allowed a slight smile to show. “Don’t worry, Tanner. I’m sending them out as trainers. They will be mentoring junior agents, who will report all their impressions of the mission.”

“They won’t like that.”

“Do I look like I care? They can do the job or be terminated.”

“Erm, when you say ‘terminated’…?”

She let the silence speak for her. As it stretched, she could hear the faint sounds of Tanner shifting his weight.

After a few minutes, Tanner gave a discreet cough. “I’ll, erm, I’ll get the missions set up, ma’am.”

She heard him move toward the desk to pick up the list, then retreat to the outer office. “Where are they?” she muttered to the uncaring city below.

It had no answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M was sure that Bond and Trevelyan were nearby. She was right.

M stood at the window once more, her back ramrod straight as she looked out out over the city. She ignored the cacophony going on around her.

“Ma'am? That's a fire alarm, we need to get you out of the building.” Tanner’s voice came from behind her. “As a precaution.”

She ignored it. All her attention was directed outward, as if she could spot her targets from there.

“Ma—”

“I heard you, Tanner.” She didn't turn around. “There's no drill scheduled. Make sure everyone gets out. I'll stay here.”

“But the fire—”

“You have your instructions.”

Tanner sighed, defeated. “Yes, ma'am.”

The door closed behind him, and still she kept a lookout, standing sentinel over the city. “Where are they? I'm positive this is their doing.” 

* * *

By the time her office door swung open again, the alarms had been silenced and she was at her desk. She’d had reports that smoke had been seen rising from the building, so some civic-minded soul had sounded the alarm, which had brought fire trucks, complete with a full complement of firefighters, roaring to the rescue. 

Two of those firefighter lumbered into the office, heavy helmets with face shields obscuring their faces. She looked the two men up and down as they turned to her. Both froze, as if surprised at her presence. Knowing what she did of their relationship, thanks to the Quartermaster's confession, she noticed the little tells betraying their concern for the other in the way they stood, with their bodies angled slightly towards the other. “Agents Bond and Trevelyan, I presume. I’ve been waiting for you. Go on, take a seat. We have a great deal to discuss.”

 _“Agents?”_ one of the men asked, looking at the other.

M didn’t recognize the voice. Presumably that was Trevelyan. She hid a smile. _Good._ She wanted them off balance.

The taller one — Bond, no doubt — shrugged. The two men removed their firefighting gear, and, after another sidelong glance at her, sheepishly piled the heavy coats and helmets on the couch.

Bond, of course, hadn't changed in the eight months since she'd last seen him, leaving her office to go to Russia. She turned her attention on the shorter man. Trevelyan's hair was a bit longer than he'd worn it in his file photograph, but he was otherwise unchanged with his broad shoulders and bright green eyes — except for the scarring that 002 had reported along the right side of his face. 

She was pleased when they sat tamely in the chairs in front of her desk. She suspected that she would need every bit of authority she possessed to get through this interview. “Well, gentlemen. You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to get in here. You have my attention. What do you want?”

“The traitor.” Bond’s words were sharp, bitten off precisely.

So. Their speculation had been right. Bond and Trevelyan _were_ after someone in MI6. She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in front of her. “Do you have any evidence to identify the traitor?”

Bond exchanged a glance with Trevelyan again. “Don’t play games with us. We know you’ve let the Double O’s off their leads after keeping them kenneled for months. Surely you’ve been winnowing through the ranks on your own. You know something.” 

“Yes, I got your warning.” She raised a brow. “Sending 002 back in a casket? Really? Could you have _been_ any more melodramatic?”

This time the glances the two men exchanged were tinged with chagrin.

“And then there’s this—” she waved a hand, encompassing the mercifully silenced smoke alarm and the firefighting gear on the couch. “—what’s all this in aid of?” 

“We wanted to see your files. Find out if you had identified the traitor.” This time it was Trevelyan who spoke. “This was our way in.”

“I see.” She studied them for a moment. How should she play this to her advantage? They were cooperating, at least. “So far, I have nothing. Pollard assigned the two of you to the GoldenEye mission and briefed you. Less than two weeks later he was dead.”

“We’re aware of that,” Trevelyan said, a touch dismissively. “He wouldn’t have been working alone. Pollard had no reason to betray us. Someone pulled his strings.”

“Yes,” M agreed, ignoring his tone. “That’s the theory we’ve gone with. I believe the answers are in here.” She waved a hand, indicating the stacks of reports she’d placed on her desk after Tanner left. “So far we’ve uncovered hundreds of reports that had been attributed to Double O’s or agents who knew nothing about them. All of them linked somehow to Russia. The only Double O not to have any of those anomalous reports attributed to him is you, Bond. Presumably because you’ve stayed away from Russia for the last ten years.”

M paused, considering. Should she go forward with this? Both men opposite her waited, almost patiently. Bond seemed more settled than he’d been before going back to Russia to discover his partner still lived. She couldn’t know if Trevelyan had changed — there had been gaps in the notes the previous M had left. She studied Trevelyan under the cover of shuffling several of the reports. The scarring was unfortunate, but he was still a handsome man. _Yes, perhaps this might work._ Decision made, she handed one of the reports to Bond. “This is a summary of the preliminary report of what we’ve found so far. Trevelyan, before you read it, I want to debrief you. Your side of the story might help put this mess into perspective.”

Trevelyan’s face shut down into a perfectly blank agent’s mask. “I’m not your agent.”

“Of course you are. You’ve been under deep cover for the last ten years. You’ve received regular promotions and commensurate pay rises in that time. It’s all sitting in a bank account in your name.” She noted the uncertain glance he shot Bond with satisfaction. “Congratulations, you’re a major. You’re due to be promoted to lieutenant colonel next week.”

Bond slashed the air with his hand as he glared at her. “That doesn’t matter. All we’re after is who betrayed us.”

She raised a brow. “Very well, then. We’ll table that discussion for another time. Trevelyan. Debrief. Begin your report.”

Trevelyan looked to Bond as though waiting for some signal, and then nodded. “All right. Pooling information. After I recovered from… After I recovered, I got in touch with who I thought was my MI6 contact. I reported regularly for the first five years — until they tried to kill me. I saw indications that the information had been received. _Someone_ used it — and benefited from it.”

Knowing it wouldn’t be that simple, she asked, “Who was your contact?” 

Trevelyan grimaced, frustrated. “It was all dead drops. I had no idea who the contact actually was.”

“Hmmm….” Something else Trevelyan had said caught her attention. “What do you mean, they tried to kill you?”

A flash of fury crossed Bond’s face before he schooled himself back to agent blandness. “He thought he was undercover, and wanted to come home. They refused, so he quit. They had him shot.”

Her brows went up. She hadn’t expected that little wrinkle. “So whoever this is, has access to our reports and authority enough to send someone out with a kill order.”

“Yes.” That was Bond again, clipped, quietly furious. 

Dangerous. Even more than Trevelyan seemed to be. She’d have to watch him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alec sift through reports along with M, searching for a clue to the traitor's identity. Moneypenny brings them a hint from an old friend.

M poured over the reports. Beside her, Bond and Trevelyan did the same. Each time she put a report down, having determined it held no clues to their traitor, she was amused to note one of the other two picked it up to go through again. They didn’t trust her. Well, no more they should. After all, she didn’t quite trust them, either. When this mess was finished, she’d have to find some way to keep them connected to MI6. If she didn’t… the very thought of these two out in the world, rogue, with no one controlling them, made her shudder. The sheer amount of havoc Bond caused simply by existing would increase exponentially with Trevelyan at his side.

They hadn’t been at it long before the all clear signal came, and she knew people would begin filing back to their offices. She’d wondered what her two companions would say, but they ignored the call she’d taken, and simply kept reading.

It wasn’t much later when Tanner burst into the office. It was unusually precipitous of him. Bond and Trevelyan to leapt to their feet, weapons drawn and aimed — at  _ her  _ as well as at Tanner, who stood there gaping at them.

“Oh, sit down,” she snapped at them. She didn’t care if their overtrained reflexes were on edge. It was bad manners to shoot someone in her office. “Mr Tanner, we’re looking at a few more hours at least of going through these reports. Please have catering send up a tray of food.” She paused, considering. “Coffee, too.”

Bond and Trevelyan shared a look, then Bond said, “Don't bother, Bill. We’ll be fine.”

M huffed at them. Honestly.  _ Men.  _ “If I wanted to have you poisoned or drugged I wouldn’t bother with food or drink.” They simply watched her impassively. “Oh, for God's sake. Plain water bottles, Mr Tanner. And some unopened bags of crisps. Will that suit you two?”

“Yes, I believe it will, thank you.” Bond said, a barely civil smile on his face.

“Hmmph.” She turned her attention to Tanner again. “Go on. And please have Miss Moneypenny cancel our appointments for the remainder of the day. We’ll need you looking over these reports as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tanner cast a disturbed look at Bond and Trevelyan, but left without saying anything more. 

Bond and Trevelyan must have noticed, but they had gone back to the reports. Well, at least they didn’t object to the idea of Tanner rejoining them later. Now, which report was next… She picked up another file from the table.

* * *

Several hours later, they’d made it through most of the reports with no success. Nothing leapt out as especially significant to identify who the traitor — or traitors — were. M was not pleased. She’d thought that with fresh eyes on the information they’d be able to come up with at least one plausible suspect.

A tap on the office door was followed by Miss Moneypenny entering, holding a note. She looked around until she spotted Bond, then she smiled. “James! I’d heard you were back! And without a word to me that you’d returned? I’m hurt.”

Bond was up and beside her in the space of a breath, not seeming to notice that Trevelyan was right on his heels. “Moneypenny, how could I ever stay away from you?”

M resisted the impulse to roll her eyes at the playful flirting. It was something he and Moneypenny had been known for. He never changed, did he?

Moneypenny shook her head at him with a smile. “James, you’re incorrigible.”

Bond smirked, and looked as though he was about to say something else when Trevelyan leaned toward him. 

“If any version of the phrase, ‘you’re free to incorrige me’ passes your lips,” Trevelyan said pleasantly, “I’ll gut you.”

Bond’s eyes flickered towards his partner, but that was the only tell that he’d heard the threat. He continued smoothly, “How nice to see you again, Miss Moneypenny. Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?”

Moneypenny laughed and turned to Trevelyan, holding out her hand. “And you must be Mr Trevelyan. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Trevelyan took her hand and bowed over it. “All good, I trust, dear lady. And please, call me Alec. All my friends do.”

He smirked at Bond, who rewarded him with a slight scowl.

M hid a smile at the theatrics and stepped in. “If that’s all of the introductions out of the way? You came in for a reason, Miss Moneypenny. What was it?”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Moneypenny became more serious. “We’ve had a message from the U.N.C.L.E., New York head.”

Now that was interesting. Also interesting was the alert look rather than puzzlement on the faces of her two problem children. They’d heard of UNCLE? The heads of MI6 and UNCLE usually took pains to keep their work — and their agents — separate. “Go ahead, Miss Moneypenny.”

A look of bafflement crossed her face as she held the note out for M to take. “It merely says, ‘Why didn’t they ask Evans?’, and it’s signed N.S.”

“How odd…” M mused, glancing absently at the note as she took it.

“That’s the title of an Agatha Christie story,” Tanner said, eager to help. “Perhaps it’s a clue? We should be looking for someone with the same name as a character from the story. Now, let me see… There was a Pritchard, Carstairs...”

Moneypenny looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t it mean you’re looking for someone called Evans? Wouldn’t that be the logical assumption?” 

Tanner practically pouted. “But then it wouldn’t be a clue, would it?”

Trevelyan frowned at him. “Perhaps not. But Miss Moneypenny has a point, and I do remember reading about someone called Evans in one of the reports. I’d never met him, so I didn’t think he would be connected. But if Napoleon is passing along his name… Perhaps we should give him a second look.”

M stared at him. How did Trevelyan know Solo? In any case… “That’s not likely. Evans died two months ago. The timing is wrong—” She stopped, and they all reached for the Evans file.

Tanner found the file first and opened it. “Two months ago, Tom Evans died of an unexpected allergic reaction. No one knew he had a peanut allergy, and someone brought a pie that had a crust made using peanut butter.”

“If he’d died four months ago, when 002 turned up, I’d have been suspicious. At two months, it seemed a random, unfortunate, happenstance. Now, though... Miss Moneypenny, I want that autopsy report. Tanner, bring me whoever made that pie. You two—” she looked at Bond and Trevelyan “—check his office and effects. The office hasn’t been reassigned yet. His effects are being held in stores — he hadn’t any relatives to claim them.”

To her mild surprise, Bond and Trevelyan obeyed without asking questions. They nodded to her and left, like a pair of hunting dogs released against their quarry.

Tanner stared at her, aghast. “You’re letting them go without supervision?”

“Why not? They both want the same thing I do. The traitor. They’ll work for me until he — or she — is found.”

“You can’t trust them after everything they’ve done?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t trust them. I trust their self-interest.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alec figure out their next stop in MI6 on their search for the traitor.

James led the way out of M’s office. Just outside the airlock door he paused and murmured, “Just a moment,” to Alec, and went over to Moneypenny’s desk. He had no idea which office Evans had been assigned, and hadn’t been about to ask. He was a Double O. He’d damn well find out on his own. Of course, then he’d complain about the pathetic security there. He pressed a key, waking the computer, and thought for a moment. _What could her password be?_

Alec watched, the curiosity on his face sharpening to interest as he sat on the corner of the desk. “Ah, Evans’ office. What have you got?”

“Nothing yet…” James pressed a few more keys. Moneypenny’s mother’s maiden name — that was in her records, and he’d found it out easily enough last year. No, that was two years ago now, wasn’t it? Didn’t matter, though, it didn’t work. Pet’s name? Did Moneypenny even have a pet? Hopefully not, or he would never figure out her password. He checked under her keyboard, then opened a few drawers, giving their contents a cursory scan. She hadn’t written her password down anywhere he could see… While he would normally applaud such meticulous computer security, it wasn’t at all helpful for him. He scanned the top of her desk, then the bookshelves behind it. Maybe there was a clue… Ah, there. He smirked. A picture of Moneypenny on vacation in Hawaii, complete with lei and a flower over her right ear. The sly minx. He’d have to tease her about that... A flower worn over the right ear meant the wearer was looking for a relationship. He typed in frangipani, for the flowers. Nothing. _Damn._ He’d been so sure… On the other hand... He knew Moneypenny was clever. Perhaps she’d used the genus name.

He typed in _Plumeria,_ and was immediately rewarded with the appearance of Moneypenny’s home screen, its prompt menu on the left. He shot a triumphant grin at Alec, then wasted no more time searching for the information they needed. There was no telling how long he had before they’d be disturbed. He was getting close when he heard Moneypenny’s voice coming from the airlock to M’s office, answering a question from Tanner.

“Haven’t you found it yet?” Alec asked, tilting his head towards M’s office. “We’ve got company.”

“I’ll have it in a tick…” He almost had it... Ah! “There. Got it. Let’s go.” He locked the computer and was up and around the desk in a moment, heading towards the office door with Alec at his shoulder. They made their escape into the corridor just as Moneypenny emerged from the airlock.

Alec closed the door on Moneypenny’s puzzled, “James?”

* * *

“Where to next?” Alec asked, seemingly content to allow James take the lead in their investigation, even as they walked down the corridor side by side. “We’ll have to be fast.”

“Right. We wouldn’t want word that we’re here to reach our enemy before we’re ready. There’s Evans’ office and the storage room. If you take the office, I’ll—” James let out a startled whuff of breath as Alec abruptly shoved him into a corner, one he well knew was a blind spot for the security cameras. Then he no longer had time to worry about being found out. Alec’s lips were on his, and James tasted coffee and chips, because they’d let Tanner bring in food after all, and beneath that was the smell of stale sweat and the reek that was baked into the fireman’s gear they’d acquired. Alec’s hands fisted into his shirt, pulling them together for a kiss, and it was all lips and tongues and teeth, fierce and possessive. James grabbed Alec’s arms and hung on, giving as good as he got. Alec was as much his as he was Alec’s. Heat pooled low in his groin as his cock took an interest in the proceedings. There was an answering hardness pressing against him, and for a moment he regretted that they wouldn’t be able to properly take care of things until later.

They were both breathing hard by the time Alec released him, and James licked at a spot of blood on the side of his mouth, from where his lip had caught on Alec’s teeth — or possibly his own. He couldn’t remember. 

Jade green eyes locked on his, hard and angry, as Alec glared. “We don’t split up. Not _here.”_

James nodded. He heard the unspoken _never again._ He had no argument. He hadn’t liked the idea of splitting up either. That left them with a dilemma, however. “What’s our next move, then?”

Alec was quiet for a moment. “Storage. If they’ve gotten all Evans belongings, there’s a better chance of finding something there. If we’ve no luck, we’ll search the office.” He paused, gave a little shrug. “Odds are, if we don’t find anything in his belongings, we won’t find anything in his office, either. It’s been too long. We’ll need to go further afield. His flat is probably gone, but perhaps a safety deposit box?”

“Or see if he had any friends that he might have left something with,” James put in. He gave a decisive nod. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The supply department ran deep into the bowels of MI6, in an attempt to keep certain items — explosives and ammunition, mainly — out of the hands of opportunistic Double O’s. Storage, the ultimate home of no longer needed files, evidence, and bits and bobs too valuable to be simply tossed away, was overseen by supply. Fortunately, it had its own entrance into the maze of corridors and storerooms.

James sauntered in, Alec right at his side, both of them projecting the supreme confidence of Double O’s. He checked abruptly when instead of the easily cowed storeroom clerk he expected, someone else was waiting for them, her arms crossed over her chest and an expression proclaiming that she was supremely unimpressed. He cast a glance at Alec, and in response to the quirk of an amused brow, spoke first. “Estelle, darling, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Estelle Martin, head of the supply department since before either of them had joined MI6, unbent enough to say, “A little bird told me you’d be on your way.”

“A little bird named M, no doubt,” James said with a confident smile. It was no secret in MI6 that since the new M had taken over, she and Estelle had become friends.

“Actually, no, it wasn’t,” Estelle said, the ghost of a smug smile playing around her lips. “It was Moneypenny.”

“Ah.” James shrugged. It really didn’t matter either way who had let her know, as long as it made their search easier. “Then you know M authorized us to look through Tom Evans’ belongings.”

“Yes. I thought it better for me to be here to keep an eye on you than to let you bully my poor clerks.”

“Bully!” James widened his eyes in a shocked, hurt expression. “Why, Estelle, you wound me! Would I do such a thing?”

“Yes, you most certainly would,” Estelle said severely. “Now, hush, and let me talk to your partner. Alec, dear, come here, let me see you.”

That was unexpected. James threw a puzzled glance at Alec, who responded with a slightly panicked look. _Why?_

With a smile that screamed how uncomfortable he felt, Alec obediently approached Estelle. “How have you been, Estelle?”

She gave him an arch look. “Is that all you have to say to me after being dead for ten years, Alec Aidan Trevelyan?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alec are on the trail of the traitor. Their investigation takes them into the depths of MI6 — the storerooms. But first, they need to make it past the storeroom guardian.

James winced. Using someone’s full name was never a good sign. He shot a glance at Alec as he realized: Estelle had used Alec’s middle name. How had she even known it? Not even  _ he  _ had known Alec’s middle name was Aidan. Until now.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Estelle,” Alec said, looking anything but repentant. “I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.” 

“Hmmf.” She gave him a withering look that lasted only a moment before cracking a smile. “It’s good to see the reports of your death were greatly exaggerated. Next time, though—” she paused and glared at them with an expression that promised dire consequences. “—I expect a little warning.”

Alec gave her a broad smile. “Of course—”

James interrupted him with a glare. “There won’t  _ be  _ a next time.” He’d make damn sure of that. At the moment, however… he wasn’t happy that Alec had obviously been keeping secrets from him.  _ “Aunt  _ Estelle?” 

“Yeah, well…” Alec shifted at his side, embarrassed. “Estelle knew my mum at school. M, the old M, preferred that we didn’t have any ties. No relatives, barely any friends. So...”

He nodded. It was a way to keep them on a short leash. Controlled. That had worked in the traitor’s favor, too. No one to raise an inquiry about Alec’s death, and James hadn’t had anyone he could turn to when when he got back from that disaster. Not even Q, with his gruff sympathy for their relationship. Of course, the old man had pretended not to know about it. Although… he shot Estelle a suspicious look.  If she had known Alec’s mother, it explained the first conversation they had after Alec’s death. She had said he shouldn’t dwell on how badly the mission had gone, or his feeling of failure. Now he understood that she hadn’t been talking just about him, but herself as well. Those same feelings — his guilt — came back in a rush, along with the echo of Alec’s voice from his nightmares accusing him once more of betrayal. He gritted his teeth and tried to shove all that aside. They had no time for him to wallow in his failings, especially since he had Alec right there,  _ alive,  _ at his side. He snatched desperately at any way out of the maelstrom of guilt and despair. “You, erm…  Why didn’t you tell me, at least? Could have made things easier when we needed gear from supply.”

“As if I’d allow sentiment to get in the way of proper procedure,” Estelle sniffed.

“Proper procedure?” Alec snorted. “From a St. Trinian’s student?”

Estelle grinned slyly at Alec. “We follow procedure when it benefits us.” She turned her attention to James. “St. Trinian’s is a girls school. It’s M’s alma mater too, you know.”

Which went a long way towards explaining why M and Estelle were friends, James supposed. He nodded, trying to remember where he’d heard of that school before. It had been a warning, he was sure of that… 

“Now.” Estelle’s eyes narrowed, and James felt a chill of danger as her eyes swept over him and landed on Alec. “What, exactly, went wrong in Russia? James reported you were dead. Now you’re back, obviously alive.”

Alec’s hand rose, almost touching his face, in an aborted gesture towards his scars. His eyes closed for a moment, and James ached, knowing the memories Alec was reliving. When Alec opened his eyes again, they were bleak. “I thought I was under deep cover. I couldn’t contact anyone. Then, when I found out that I’d been betrayed… I was just trying to survive.”

“Hmm.” Estelle stared at Alec, lips pressed together, as she considered what he’d said.

“Evans was part of the plot,” James said, hoping to get their investigation back on track. As unexpected as finding out that Alec had a connection to Estelle was, they were wasting time. “That’s why we need to search whatever of his you have in storage.”

Estelle met his gaze, eyes hard in a way that promised dire consequences if she was crossed.  The hair on the back of his neck prickled at the sense of danger. Then she nodded briskly. “This way, then. I have the master key for all the locks.”

James shot a look at Alec, and they followed her deeper into the maze of storerooms.

* * *

James and Alec followed Estelle along a hallway that smelled of disuse. This far underground, below the level of the Thames, there was a pervasive chill in the damp air. James wondered if they used dehumidifiers or a dehydrating compound to keep everything down there from rotting away.

“It’s just this way,” Estelle said, leading them to the right and then toward a corner. “I looked up the location after I spoke with Moneypenny.”

“Right.” James stepped into the shelter of the nearest doorway and grabbed Alec’s arm, stopping him from following Estelle around the corner. Alec paused, a question in his eyes. James searched Alec’s face. “You really trust her?”

Alec relaxed. “Yes. And you still trust me, after this?”

After learning he’d kept quiet about knowing Estelle, James knew he meant. “Of course.” He wanted to kiss that certainty into his lover, so that Alec would never doubt it — or him — again, but they didn’t have time. It wasn’t the right place.

“Are you two coming or not?” Estelle demanded, her voice floating back to them from farther down the hallway, beyond where he could see.

Alec shook his head and flashed James a wry grin. “Come on, she won’t like being kept waiting.”

James grinned back, and they walked together to the corner. When they turned, James saw Estelle stopped in front of a door, an impatient look on her face. 

“There you are. I hope you two have more sense than to indulge yourselves at a time like this.” Estelle pulled out a key ring and put one of the keys in the lock. 

The door was labeled with what seemed to be an arcane code — but James had served aboard a ship. He was familiar with the signs onboard that indicated where you were in relation to the center of the ship, and he imagined that this code was similar.

James frowned as Estelle turned the key, and he nudged Alec. “Awfully easy to pick,” he said quietly. Alec nodded in agreement. Knowing how easy the locks were might come in handy in the future. James refused to think about the fact he had no idea what was in store for them after they dealt with the traitor. M claiming they were still agents had thrown off all of his expectations for the future.

Estelle opened the door and turned the light on as he and Alec followed her into the storeroom. One that was, unlike the other areas they’d passed through, in complete disarray. Boxes that normally would have been neatly stacked were piled haphazardly on the floor, and the cabinet drawers weren’t quite shut all the way.

“Well. Looks like someone was in here before us,” James commented drily as Estelle stared in shock. “And they didn’t care about keeping that quiet.”

Estelle’s shock wore off before Alec could answer, and she swore colorfully.

James traded a glance with Alec. Estelle swore like a sailor. His brows rose at her extensive — and creative — invective. Perhaps he should take notes.

“No one is authorized to come into this area without an escort,” Estelle said when she finally calmed a bit, although her ire still obvious. “Let alone have enough time for a search this thorough.”

“But did they find whatever it was they were looking for?” Alec asked, a sour expression on his face. 

“Judging by the mess—” James eyed the room. “—I’d say no. What do you think the chances are of finding anything in Evans’ office?”

Alec surveyed the room in turn. “Offhand, I’d say somewhere between slim and none.”

“Right,” Estelle snapped, her eyes sparking with anger and determination. “We’re going to find out who’s been in here. That might lead you to a clue.”

She whirled around and said, “Come with me,” before storming out of the room.

James raised a brow at Alec. “You heard the lady. Shall we?” 

“After you,” Alec said, motioning toward the door.

“You just want to ogle my arse,” James said, looking back at Alec on his way out the door. A little flirting might go a long way to raise their spirits after this setback.

“It’s such a lovely arse,” Alec quipped back, a mischievous gleam lighting his eyes.

James loved it when they were in tune with one another.

* * *

They ended up in the office, where James was surprised to see Q waiting for them, seated at one of the desks. That was unusual — the Quartermaster rarely left his branch.

Q had a wide, welcoming smile as they walked in, but his face fell as he realized their tension. “Is something wrong?”

Estelle ignored him in favor of the log book sitting on the other desk. She opened it and skimmed over the list of entries. “This will have a record of everyone who has accessed that area. At least… it  _ should.”  _ Her tone promised dire consequences for anyone who hadn’t recorded information properly.

Q stared at her, then looked at James and Alec, his eyes anxious. “What happened?”

“We were going to search Tom Evans’ things,” James said, waving away Alec’s look of concern. They could trust Q. “He had a hand in betraying us. But someone had gotten there before us.”

“Someone deliberately went through his effects? Here?” Q frowned, pensive. “That is troubling. But are you quite sure about Evans? He was a fine man, you know.”

Alec glanced at James with a raised brow. 

James shrugged. Q could be a bit too trusting, but he was generally a good judge of character. Most of the time, at least. “Yes. He was murdered to keep him quiet.”

Q’s face went slack with shock. “Murdered?”

“Giddings. He’s the only unusual entry in the last few months,” Estelle announced, looking up at them. “He was supposed to be in a different section, though. Not the one where Evans’ belongings were stored.”

“That bastard,” James growled. He ignored Q’s sputtered protest at denigrating a fellow Double O. It may not be fair, but he had no tolerance for Giddings. Never had. Especially since Giddings had taken Alec’s number.

“Now, Double O Seven,” Q said, “Just because Double O— erm, Giddings, I mean, erm… Yes. Anyway. Just because he was in the storage area doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

Estelle snorted. “Doesn’t mean he’s innocent, either. And from the looks of this,” she tapped the log book, “he didn’t have a solid reason to have been in here in the first place.”

Alec drifted closer to James, and put a hand on his arm. “Do you think Giddings is guilty, or is he just a—”

“Double O Six!” Q exclaimed, exasperated, although his expression quickly became troubled. It was obvious the Quartermaster wasn’t completely sure of his defense of Giddings. “I don’t know why neither of you like Giddings, but he was an excellent field agent. Always brought back his kit in perfect nick.”

James exchanged a glance with Alec. That right there was a red flag if there ever was one. 

The old man seemed to understand their private glance, and sat back, as if he’d deflated. “Yes, you’re quite right. That  _ is  _ suspicious behaviour, isn’t it?”

“We still need proof,” Alec reminded them. “If Giddings wasn’t able to find whatever Evans had, we might still have a chance.”

“Well, there’s nothing here,” Estelle said, closing the book with a thump. “I’ll go through some of Evans’ old reports in the archives, to see if there’s anything there.”

“We might as well go back to M,” James said, meeting Alec’s eyes, and seeing the frustration there. Walking into the lion’s den too many times was tempting fate. Sooner or Later M would tire of whatever game she was playing. Her voice calling them _ agents  _ rang through his mind once more. After all they’d done? She had some angle he couldn’t quite see.

“Erm, well, you might try Evans’ safety deposit box. I know he had one.” The Quartermaster brightened as they looked at him. “I have an excellent lock picking device for them, you know. You’d just need to get into the bank.”

“I’m sure getting into secure areas is well within their skill set,” Estelle said, looking happier than before.

“It most certainly is,” Alec said, aiming a sly smile at James.

Finally feeling hopeful again, James smiled back. Their investigation was looking up.


End file.
